


Memoir-of-sorts

by EliraWinter



Series: Charles/Erik Drabbles [5]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Disability, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-05
Updated: 2012-09-05
Packaged: 2017-11-13 14:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliraWinter/pseuds/EliraWinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Last year, Charles had a life changing experience; funnily enough, it wasn’t so much that he lost the use of his legs, but the fact that he met Erik.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memoir-of-sorts

> _It may be awfully cliché to write a memoir-of-sorts after a life changing experience, but I don’t think the fact that it’s been done before should deter me.  Everyone has a different story, and I want to share mine._

Charles taps his pen on the clean, creamy pages of the book and looks out over the lush grass of his university campus.  The borders of his consciousness are unfurling lazily like a cat in the sunshine, and he _feels_ Erik before he sees him; feels the keen sharpness of his mind, the absent way he reaches out to metal and runs invisible fingers along it, through it.  The metal of Charles’ wheelchair heats a little under his hand.

“Erik,” Charles says, letting the book fall closed as he looks up into Erik’s smiling face.

“Charles,” Erik replies.  He braces his hands on the arms of Charles’ chair and leans down to give him a long, slow kiss.  Charles mewls a little as Erik tugs on his hair.  When Erik pulls away, there’re two girls walking by and staring, mouths slightly open in shock.  Erik turns and glares viciously, baring his teeth, and Charles fights the urge to duck and hide his face in Erik’s shirt.  The girls scurry away.

“You shouldn’t do that, Erik,” Charles whispers.

“Well, they shouldn’t look at us like that.  At you.”  Erik sits on the grass next to Charles’ feet, reaching up to hold Charles’ hand.

“If it wasn’t for those kinds of looks, you would never have met me,” Charles says.

\--

He remembers the day with fondness; he’d been on his way to a class, and had neglected to ensure that he had somebody to help him if the building was difficult to access.  There hadn’t been a ramp installed, and there were two shallow steps that Charles couldn’t climb on his own.  He’d been on the verge of putting his fingers to his temple and trying to find Hank (he was huge and furry and strong, more than able to lift him and his wheelchair) but someone had tapped him on the shoulder.

“Do you need some help?” the man had said.  He was tall, clad in a leather jacket and introduced himself as _Erik Lehnsherr, Engineering student, metallokinetic mutation._ Charles had felt overwhelmingly grateful (and rather overwhelmingly embarrassed, and embarrassingly close to tears) as Erik steadied him with an arm around his shoulders and his wheelchair smoothly lifted, floated up the stairs, and touched down with barely a jolt.  
“Will you be alright from here?” Erik had asked, long fingers lingering on the side of Charles’ neck.

“Yes, thank you,” Charles replied.  He’d tapped his fingers against the rims of the wheels on his chair.  “I’m Charles Xavier and I’m a telepath,” he blurted, glancing back up at Erik, expecting (fearing) rejection; if not because of his disability, but his mutation made a lot of people nervous.

“Lovely,” Erik had murmured, hungry-eyed.  He gestured to his head.  “Take a look, then.”  Charles had dipped into his thoughts, oh so cautiously, and spelled out in huge letters was _wait for me after your class_ and around the edges were blurry images of kisses and candlelight.

“Oh,” Charles gasped, and they’d smiled sappily at each other for a few moments before Charles really had to get to his class.

\--

“That was different,” Erik gripes, rolling a coin between his and Charles’ intertwined fingers.  “There isn’t anyone else who’d come and sweep you off your feet like that.”

“I hope not,” Charles said.

 _I wouldn’t let them_ , Erik thinks, and the thin lines around his eyes soften.  Charles smiles.


End file.
